As I Always Have
by Steadfast-Bright-Star
Summary: Modern AU. Gilbert has a secret love, one that his friends could never understand. Every week, he goes to visit Fritz, the man who is his best friend, greatest inspiration and true love. But Fritz can never love him back, and there is a very important reason why... Oneshot, onesided PruFritz


Gilbert has made this journey so many times before. He hardly thinks of where he's going as he stands on the platform sipping a lukewarm coffee and clutching his ticket, waiting for the train. When it arrives, he climbs on like a weary commuter and finds a seat, going through the motions as he has always done. He doesn't need to pause, doesn't need to think about where to get off. The train slows and stops at all the different stations, displaying a view of the backs of houses; wilting lawns, trampolines, colourful blinds at the windows. He finishes his coffee and silently counts the stops. He gets off at the last station, the end of the line, when the tinny voice over the loudspeaker informs the passengers that 'this train terminates here'. He doesn't need to be told. He has made this journey so many times before.

At the final station, he joins the exodus flooding towards the way out, the bus stops, the taxis or the underground. He buys another coffee and drinks it on the slow-moving escalator that takes him and the other passengers down to the subterranean tube network. He knows exactly which line to take, exactly where to get off. His customised T-shirt – 'Keep Calm and Be Awesome' attracts a few smiles and thumbs-ups from tourists, and he returns their greetings equally effusively. Never mind that his heart breaks every time he makes this trip. He reaches the bottom of the escalator and heads for the platform.

The train is half-empty and he gets a seat alone. The view from the windows is total darkness and there is a grinding shriek as the train moves through the tunnels. No one speaks to him, and he's grateful for that. Normally, he'd be glad to make conversation, but not today. Without anything outside to distract him, his thoughts turn to Frederick, the one whom he'll be visiting. The man whom he loves so truly and hopelessly.

He first encountered him as a child and from the beginning was entranced by him. Frederick – or Fritz, as he liked to call him - fascinated and inspired him like no one ever had before. As a teenager sitting in the police station with a vandalism charge against his name, it was Fritz's example that showed him that there was an alternative to this, no matter how futile and pointless life seemed. Fritz never judged him, and he took comfort from the fact that he understood what it was like for Gilbert to have trouble with his father, after all. For Gilbert, he is unquestionably his best friend and always has been. But around the age of sixteen, he began to feel the first thrilling surges of love – not directed towards a girl in his class or who he saw at the bus stop, but Fritz himself. It hasn't been easy living with that constant swell of desire. It makes it hard to sleep on some nights, strikes him right in the heart when he's right in the middle of something, fills him with irrational sadness... No, he wouldn't wish this sort of love on anyone.

The train pulls into his station and he takes the stairs to the exit, not wanting to be stuck on the conveyor-belt grimness of the escalator again. He's been doing this every week since he was eighteen, since he moved out of his parents' house and was finally away from their constant scrutiny. He couldn't imagine a Saturday without making his visit. At the top of the stairs, he takes the first exit and heads out along a wide street. He buys a third coffee at a little place tucked into a corner, just to fortify himself. Much as he loves Frederick, these meetings with him are always difficult.

He arrives at his destination. They've always met here, since they can't go anywhere else. He feels the same nervousness that he always has, that he can never quite rid himself of no matter how many times he visits. He stops outside for a moment, looking up at the imposing building, then enters without thinking about it. He knows what he's doing. He stops again in the atrium, looking up at the ceiling and feeling momentarily lost in the crowd, the babble of voices and the scent of tea from somewhere downstairs. A young woman asks him if he needs directions. He's jerked out of his trance, shakes his head and says that no, he's awesome enough to know his way around. She shrugs and walks off and he begins to climb the stairs. The place is a labyrinth, but he's had years of practice and he can navigate the corridors without a second thought. Outside the room, he pauses and brushes a few creases out of his jacket. He knows that Fritz has a thing for neatness and fastidiousness.

He opens the door and steps in, feeling a cool rush from the air conditioning. No one looks at him as he enters and he's thankful for that. These visits are between him and Fritz, and if someone said something to him now, at this critical moment, it would feel like an invasion, a violation. He spots his friend immediately and follows his routine, well-worn steps towards him. He smiles up at him, his usual nerves not yet disappeared.

'Hey Fritzy,' he says brightly, although his voice is soft. He doesn't want people getting involved in this private moment. He clears his throat and carries on. 'I hope you haven't missed the awesome me too much. Although it would be nice if you missed me a little bit, I guess.' he carries on. Tears begin to sting his eyes. He shoves his hands into his pocket and bites his lip. He promised himself he wouldn't cry. He reaches for his iron cross necklace and clasps it, warming the metal and wishing it could give him strength. It digs painfully into his palm.

'I… I love you. I know I say it a lot, but I really, really mean it,' he says desperately. He's forgotten to be quiet, and he's beginning to attract a few glances. If Francis and Antonio were here, they'd probably laugh and make some joke about Gilbert being all emotional because he's 'on his man period' or something equally stupid. He bites down harder on his bottom lip, not wanting to think about them right now. Neither of them could ever know what it's like to love someone like Fritz, and they have no right to be in his thoughts at this sacred time. The tears come faster and he lets out a few sobs. 'I love you so much. As much as I always have' he repeats, feeling the awful, useless burning of attraction that he always feels around him. The room has emptied. There were only a few people there to begin with, but they've all been driven out by this strange, tearful young man with the white hair that he used to pretend was stardust. After all, what do you do with someone who has a breakdown _here_, of all places? Now it's just him and Fritz. Fritz says nothing. He never does. With a last sigh, Gilbert wipes his eyes on his sleeve and turns around, leaving him behind. Leaving the man whom he can never truly know; his friend, hero and true love.

The painting on the wall is silent. Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, has been dead since 1786. Gilbert knows this, has always known this, but it doesn't stop him from being in love. The noble, painted figure recedes behind him as he makes his way out of the gallery. In love with a dead man, he thinks. How weird. How pathetic. He's tried to bring himself to feel the same thing for a man still living, a man who can return his feelings, but he just can't. He could never have another Fritz, and he's not sure if he wants one, despite his loneliness. But Fritz, and his country, are long gone. Gilbert doesn't need to think about where he's going as he descends the stairs. He has made this journey so many times before.


End file.
